


The Trouble With Wanting

by Orange_Coyote



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Because it's Tony, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Blood, Oblivious Tony Stark, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Stubborn Steve Rogers, Swearing, hero complexes on full display
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 13:30:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20967350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orange_Coyote/pseuds/Orange_Coyote
Summary: When a deep-seated urge to protect goes awry, Steve finds himself learning something he'd never really given much thought to before.





	The Trouble With Wanting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [firebrands](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firebrands/gifts).

> The biggest thanks to diskarte for cheering me on and looking at the final draft!
> 
> Title comes from: The Trouble with Wanting by Joy Williams
> 
> I think the only warning you really need is that I love dialogue.

This, the third event of the _ Let's Remind Everyone How Necessary The Avengers Are _ tour, had Steve on edge. He'd never felt comfortable schmoozing with politicians and people wealthy enough to pay their way into influential social circles. Seventy years in the ice and a handful of years in the 21st century hadn't changed that fact.

Either Fury didn't understand or, more likely, didn't care. The director had sent Tony and Steve on a diplomatic mission of sorts, reminiscent of Steve's USO days. Go to a city, attend a dinner or gala or intimate party with an exclusive guest list, make them all feel important, get their money or loyalty or both, and repeat it all the next day.

The ones in Los Angeles and New York City were easy. Steve knew most of those people already, whether they be grandsons of men who knew Steve in the heyday and felt entitled to familiarity or the typical power hungry type unafraid to put on a little bravado if it got them the audience of Captain America. There was no Steve Rogers in events like this. He knew what to say, what not to say. Sometimes that made the hours of nodding and listening easier to endure.

But other times, like right now, three hours felt like an eternity. Steve stood by Tony's side, hands loosely held behind his back as someone -- a director or prime minister or something -- countered Tony's argument about something. Steve probably should have been listening. Oh well.

He couldn't keep himself focused on one thing for long. The cocktails at the bar didn't do anything for him, but he held one anyway. For the principle of it, Tony had said when the waiter had made their rounds with a large silver tray. So Steve had taken a glass and had been fiddling with it ever since, remembering to take a drink of it every now and then. For appearances.

Steve couldn't help glancing over at the man in question every few minutes. The "financial advisor" role fit Tony like a second skin. Though he wore many hats and many faces depending on the situation, Steve liked this one the least. Seeing Tony mingling and chatting up various people with an engaging smile and intrepid charm rubbed against Steve's already frayed nerves.

Did Tony not think about the fight they'd had on the plane last night? The disagreement weeks ago that initiated all this sour tension between them in the first place, did that mean nothing to him? It kept Steve awake at night, unable to focus on anything else.

From the corner of his eye Steve spotted a man bullying a woman into a corner of the room. He couldn't see their faces clearly, but the thinly veiled aggression in the man's shoulders, the harsh tone of voice brushing the edges of Steve's enhanced hearing, raised all the red flags in his mind. The woman seemed resigned to her fate, which fanned the flames of Steve's simmering contempt all the more.

With Tony still otherwise occupied, Steve decided to take matters into his own hands. Tony would be fine without him.

Following an old hardwired protocol he and Bucky had developed in the days of their youth, Steve approached the couple casually. Best not to spook anyone before he could even get a word in. Once within earshot he directed a small smile at the woman and asked, "Nice shindig, don't you think?"

The other man turned, one hand shooting out to grab the woman's wrist as if Steve's appearance would give her an opportunity to escape. The woman nodded politely as Steve, giving no indication anything was amiss. Her reaction did nothing to calm the roiling concern in his gut.

"Can I help you?" the man asked. Steve finally shifted his gaze, feeling the woman would be safe enough.

"I was asking the lady's opinion." When silence fell, Steve added, "And I would very much appreciate it if you loosened your grip."

The man scoffed, moving to stand to his full height. He still stood a good three inches below Steve's eye line, but the move seemed to give him newfound confidence. "Do you know who I am?"

"I may not know who you are, but I _ do _ know what will happen if you continue hurting this woman."

"Your cockiness is misplaced," the man retorted. "I have claims here that you could never understand."

The skin over his knuckles _ itched _ with the urge to shake the man in front of him. All of the anxiety and bottled up anger from the last few days, hell the last few _ months _, had Steve balling his hands into fists at his sides. He'd dealt with his fair share of corruption, of apathetic men with crude "jokes" and crass actions. A part of him had hoped the world in this century would be better. And in many ways it was. But people like this man, dismissive and entitled and practically begging to be knocked down a peg or four, annoyed him even on his better days. Today did not bode well.

"Why don't we let the lady speak for herself."

"Let's go, Kiya. I don't need to subject myself to such blatant harassment." The man roughly pulled the woman to his side using his grasp on her wrist as he spoke.

Something in Steve snapped.

Before he even recognized the movement, he had one hand holding the man in place by the shoulder as his free hand rose in an arc, fist aimed directly at the spurious man's nose.

All in the blink of an eye, three men in dark tuxedo suits surrounded them. All three had their weapons up and pointed at Steve.

Distantly Steve wondered who he'd just decided to physically assault and how much trouble Fury would give him once he found out America's Golden Boy had gotten into a brawl. He heard sounds, voices, in the back of his mind but they were fuzzy due to the pounding rush of adrenaline thrumming through his veins. Then one sound filtered in and registered: a gun being cocked.

"STEVE!"

Steve dropped his hands and turned his body to the right, leaving the man and woman safely ensconced behind two security guards. The third watched open-mouthed as the bullet soared right past Steve into the crowd of other men of import.

Steve twisted further to follow the bullet's trajectory, landing on both feet in the direction of oblivious men and women gathered nearby. Suddenly his stomach dropped to the floor.

_ Tony. _Tony had been the one to shout his name, the one to push his way through to Steve's side.

Steve moved mindlessly, thinking only of reaching Tony in time to push him out of harm's way. Maybe he wouldn't be able to deter him, but he had to try. He couldn't have Tony's blood on his hands. Not Tony, not now, not ever.

Miraculously as he and Tony tussled and jostled, Tony shifted to the side just as the bullet made impact. The duo fell to the floor, Steve strewn across Tony's chest, as warmth pooled beneath them.

"_Fuck _," he muttered. "Tony, are you okay?" Steve got to his knees, quickly running his hands over every inch of Tony he could reach. No head wounds, no vital organs hit, no loss of breath or consciousness. Good signs so far.

Tony hissed beneath him, groaning when Steve's hand pressed against sticky fabric. "I'm fine. Steve, get up! I'm fine."

Steve drew his now bloody hand into Tony's line of sight. "You're not fine." He stood, hating the grimace of pain on Tony's face. "Come on, we'll figure something out." He held out a hand in offer of assistance, but Tony swatted it away.

"I'm _ fine _, Steve. Just a scratch. I've had worse." Tony was sitting up now, though his face looked a little pale from the effort. One hand lay protectively over his wound. "Stop making a scene."

Steve looked from Tony on the floor to the gathering of shocked speechless onlookers, to the man who had accidentally shot Iron Man, and back to Tony. "Kind of late for that."

Tony rolled his eyes. Using his free hand, he staggered to his feet. Steve moved instinctively to support his weight, which earned another patented Stark eye roll. "You're telling me. And I thought I was the one with the need to be the center of attention at parties."

Steve breathed out a laugh despite the worry sitting steadfast in his chest. "You are. This is an unexpected glitch."

"Let's just blow this joint. I don't think I can top this."

Tony took a step forward and stopped, breath pushing through gritted teeth. Steve's concern flared back to life.

"We need to get you checked." Steve doubted they'd get any sympathy from anyone now that he'd upset someone who was obviously special somehow, so asking for a medic was out of the question. He thought back to the multiple hallways they had walked through to reach this specific ballroom and remembered they were only a few hundred yards from a maintenance closet. Surely there'd be a first aid kit in there among all the cleaning supplies. "I know a place."

"We've been here less than two hours and you already have lay of the land?" Tony quipped. "I shouldn't be surprised. Boy Scout to the bone."

Steve ignored the jab, instead moving Tony toward the nearest exit. Each step felt a Herculean effort if the strain on Tony's face was anything to go by. Steve's logical side started to think this was more than "just a scratch" as Tony had claimed.

"Wait! Hey! Stop! You can't just leave!"

Steve kept moving, not in the mood to deal with the man who had brought this whole scenario into being. He looked down at Tony to check on his progress, startled to see Tony already gazing upward.

"You're an idiot, Rogers," he grumbled as Steve continued to inch them further away from the scene of the incident. "Do you know who that man is?"

"Can't say I do," Steve replied breezily. "Should I?"

"He's a Saudi prince. His folks are the ones hosting this, the ones we were supposed to sway to our side of the table." Tony laughed roughly. "Good job on that, by the way. Agent Agent would be proud."

"Doesn't matter what his rank is. He shouldn't be treating people that way."

"You sure taught him a lesson, didn't you?"

Steve felt a chuckle push past his lips before he could stop it escaping. "You're terrible." He could see the door ahead now that everyone else had given them a berth and made a clear path. "Just a bit further, Tony."

Tony shuddered, both hands clutching at his side where the bullet had left stains on Tony's otherwise flawless charcoal grey suit jacket. Steve gripped him tighter in response.

"Sir, you can't leave this room," a voice said behind them. Steve assumed it belonged to one of the bodyguards from earlier. "You assaulted a royal personage. We'll have to arrest you."

"What are you waiting for?" the disgruntled royal interjected. "Arrest him! He not only verbally disrespected me, but he laid hands on me!"

Steve paused, sparing the visibly upset prince a dry stare. "I'll deal with you later."

With no further ado, he lifted Tony up into a comfortable perch in his arms and left the room.

Tony squawked in protest, but kept his body still in order to avoid putting his perilous position in any further danger. Steve lengthened his strides as he walked down the deserted hallway, taking care to cushion Tony from being jarred too badly with every step.

Five minutes of walking had them outside the maintenance closet, and another three had them safely hidden away with the doorknob broken and a barricade of supplies put in place against the door to buy them some time. It was only a matter of time until someone figured out where they were, police banging on the door at any moment. A quick search of the room yielded no first aid kit.

Tony sighed from where he slumped on the floor, head thrown back against the wall behind him. "I'm fine," he reiterated as Steve approached. "I can't believe you just did all of that. Actually, scratch that. I can completely believe you would happily go to jail in order to protect a woman's honor. What I _ can't _ believe is that you holed us up in this janitor's closet like we're in a B-rated action film."

"Penny movies were always my favorites," Steve said as he said beside Tony. He removed the engineer's hands as to get a full analysis of the situation at hand. Tony huffed at the treatment but allowed Steve to look his fill.

Luckily it seemed like the bullet had grazed Tony's side rather than lodging itself inside flesh. Steve ripped a strip of fabric from his dress shirt and wiped down the area as best he could.

Tony watched without saying a word, which worried Steve more than if he'd been yelling or rambling or complaining. Silence with Tony now was unfamiliar territory, though it had become more frequent recently.

After going through three strips of fabric, the area looked as clean as it was likely to get. Steve sat back and released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding the entire time he'd been attending to Tony. The quiet gave him time to process everything that had happened. He'd gotten Tony _ shot _ . Tony could have _ died _ because of a reckless impulse of Steve's part. He could have lost _ Tony _. Forever.

The idea chilled him.

With nothing else to do, Steve took in their surroundings fully. He could use some electrical tape and another fragment of his already destroyed button down to fashion a makeshift bandage to place over the break in Tony's skin. Not his best work, but it was the best he could do in the moment.

He stood up and went to grab the tape, feeling Tony's eyes on him. When he returned to Tony's side, crouched with his hand extended, Tony pushed him away.

"I'm fine, Cap. It's just a scratch. It'll quit bleeding soon."

"Sure it will."

"Stop fussing. I'm _ fine _," Tony asserted, shifting where he sat. "You should be more worried about Interpol busting down that door and dragging America's Golden Boy out of the building in handcuffs."

Steve huffed and threw his hands in the air. "Damn it, Tony. I told you I'll take care of that _ after _ you're taken care of. Why do you always have to make everything so difficult?"

Tony looked completely unimpressed by the show of emotion. "Why do you even care?" he asked tiredly.

_ Why _ do _ I care? _ Steve thought bitterly. Was it really that difficult to see? Maybe Steve had done such a good job of bottling up his emotions that even Tony Stark couldn't see through the facade. The way Steve's lips twitched in amusement every time Tony drank a smoothie Dum-E had given him and thanked the bot, the way he'd found his gaze drawn to Tony again and again when he was certain no one would notice, the way his heart melted every time Tony presented an Avenger with newly improved armor or technology; maybe Tony had never noticed those things. Maybe Steve hadn't realized the depth of his feelings until the possibility of Tony being gone forever lay right in front of his eyes. How could he be so stupid?

Less than twenty minutes ago he had been willing to take a bullet, maybe even die, for Tony. But Tony had been the one who had jumped into harm's way on Steve's account for no reason other than to protect him. Steve was the super solider. _ He _was the one meant to put his life on the line. But Tony had never looked at him that way, had he? He'd never been afraid to call Steve out, to tell him things he didn't want to hear. Tony represented everything Steve needed to balance his hectic life. And damn it all but Steve wanted to be that person for Tony as well. Even if trying to do so ended in a burned bridge or an emotional explosion neither of them could come back from.

Steve leaned against the wall opposite Tony, energy drained from him like a faucet left on too long, subconsciously mirroring Tony's position. "Because I'm an idiot." He paused, looking off to the side before adding, "And I'm in love with you."

Steve could hear the gears of Tony's brain whirring as the words hung in the air between them. Steve's own thoughts were a whirlwind, but, in the heart of them all, he could recognize the truth in those words. Not what he'd expected of the evening, but that didn't make the feelings any less real.

"Say that again," Tony rasped. "I'm hallucinating from a combination of shock, dehydration, and blood loss. That's the only viable explanation for what I just heard. But say it again anyway. It'll be a nice sendoff, to have the last words I ever hear be a love confession from god damn Captain fucking America."

"You're not hallucinating, Tony. And I don't think you'll be dying any time soon." Tony didn't respond, just kept looking at him expectantly, so Steve took in a fortifying breath and said the words again. "I'm in love with you, Tony. Is that what you wanted me to say? Is that good enough for you?"

Tony, eyes glazed, looked so vulnerable in that moment Steve wanted to tear the world in two. He could count on one hand the amount of times he'd truly seen the man before him in a raw, open state of being. So no one could blame him for moving to hunch over Tony, to protect him from the pain Steve himself had caused. The tears threatening to spill from his eyes didn't matter. He'd just laid his cards out on the table, offered his heavy heart to a man he had despised and admired and slowly come to love.

Steve found himself with arms full of Tony Stark, surrounded by the familiar scent of cologne and ever present remnants of mechanical grease that seemed to live in Tony's pores no matter how often or how thoroughly he bathed. Steve doesn't move, _ can't _ move, as Tony's arms squeeze around him and pull him closer.

"Cap, you idiot. Is this what had you so wound up these past couple days? You thought, what, that I didn't care about you as much? That it didn't kill me to go to sleep thinking _ that may be the last time _? That I didn't wonder if you'd just leave, never speak to me again?"

Steve tensed at the reminder. They'd reached an impasse. There has been nothing left to say. Tony had said as much the other night, the two of them retiring to their separate rooms with lingering words of anger they meant but didn't mean.

"Of course I care," Tony said, breaking Steve from an inner downward spiral. "You can't be angry or disappointed with someone whose opinion doesn't matter. You can feel betrayed by someone you don't give a shit about."

Steve felt himself relaxing, melting into Tony's embrace, stress lifted from shoulders. Finally he had an answer. The timbre of Tony's voice managed to calm him like nothing else had. Not since his ma had lulled him to sleep with lullabies when he couldn't stop coughing an hour past midnight on a school night.

They sat together just like that. For seconds or minutes or hours, Steve didn't know.

But, like all good things, their moment of solitude came crashing to an end. Literally.

The supplies Steve had stacked against the door flew apart as something impacted with it from the other side. Then the door rattled on its hinges for a second time.

"We know you're in there! Come out now and we can settle this peacefully!"

"Yeah, because tyrannical princes always settle things peacefully," Tony muttered in Steve's ear.

Steve reluctantly pulled away, holding out a hand, placating, when Tony protested. "I'll go with them. Fury or Hill will get me out. Just stay here until someone from the team comes for you."

"Steve, no. That's stupid. You're usually a genius in the field but that is one of the dumbest plans I've ever heard. And that's counting all the wannabe villain monologues I've been subjected to."

The door shook ominously once again, this time giving a loud creak as well. Steve turned his full attention to it.

"Whoever is out there," he said loudly, "step away from the door. I don't want to hurt anyone."

"A little late for that." Tony parroted Steve's earlier words with a smile.

"Captain, please refrain from doing anything even more stupid." That was Nick Fury's voice. Had Steve saying the man's name summoned him? "In any other situation, I wouldn't think that to be possible," Fury continued, "but apparently your idiocy knows no bounds."

"Just going to open the door, sir. It might take a little force."

A beat of silence passed. "Go on then," Fury said, noticeably farther from the door this time.

Steve resisted the urge to go to Tony, grab him and hold him in his arms, never let him go. Shock was finally leaving his system, brown eyes clearer and skin getting its natural color back. Steve looked at the man he loved for a long moment, nodded, then turned back around and knocked the door down with a well placed kick.

As soon as steel touched the ground, Steve was swarmed by men dressed head to toe in tactical military gear. One man held him still by the shoulders as another wrenched Steve's hands behind his back and slapped a pair of cuffs around both wrists. Two other soldiers stood on either side, guns pointed steadily at his chest. Two more men stood further down the hall, flanking the elevator that led down to the ground floor. At the midway point, Fury stood in his typical all black attire, expression blank. To anyone unfamiliar with him, the director looked unbothered. But Steve had experience enough with the minuscule twitch of the man's jaw to know better. Fury would probably let him sit in the facility for a few days out of spite.

"Steve!"

Steve fought the grip on his shoulders enough to catch Tony's eye. The wounded man stood in the doorway of the closet now, leaning half his weight on the door jamb.

"I'll wait for you," once he had Steve's gaze, fluttering his lashes like a movie damsel from the silver screen. More seriously, he added, "We have a lot to talk about.

"We do," Steve agreed. The smile on Tony's face was worth the sharp jolt of discomfort when his new keeper tugged him in the opposite direction.

When the group passed Fury, the man fell into step beside Steve. "We'll do what we can to get you out quickly, try to make your stay comfortable. It might take a few days to soothe a spoiled prince's bruised ego."

"I understand, sir."

Fury shook his head in the universal gesture of disbelief. "All of this for Stark?"

Steve grinned as he was pulled into the elevator, Fury left out in the hall. "For Tony? Always."


End file.
